Suicide Bomber: FINALLY. Yes, this must be what you're thinking now. I'm editing the grammatical errors that are present in my current fictions, and I hope it wouldn't bore you if you were going to read it again. The story has changed a bit, as I've made a few changes here and there in the previous chapters. Please re-read them if you're lost or anything. I'm sorry for this inconvenience.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmoon-wo sagashite. I own the plot and it's FICTIONAL thank you.

°†°

Forgotten Memories

Chapter 2: Love isn't needed

Suicide Bomber

°†°

I awoke with mysteries surrounding me. Places I had never seen surfaced with utmost surprise. The people whom I once knew of were not around me. Then again, I did not recall of any that I knew of. I did not seem to remember whom I had trust, and whom I had not. But deep down in me, I felt the slightest hint of being miserable. Why? Why am I feeling a tinge of sadness? Why are there tears in my eyes? My emotions were not of mine, but of someone I cannot pinpoint. It could be me, but a moment ago, I felt as if I had reincarnated or something, and my previous live was slowly draining from my memory. Either way, the feeling left as soon as it came and I was alert by the sounds of footsteps. My vision was still a blur when a woman clad in white poked needles in my arms. Soon, the world around me turned to darkness. I was left alone again, and suddenly, I had lost clue of whom I was.

• • •

Mitsuke's POV

Ring! Ring!

The abrupt ringing of the alarm clock broke my trance of slumber. I awoke, half still in my dreamland. My eyelids were unusually heavy this morning, and I wondered why. My thoughts ran to the sunlight that shone through the window curtains. I grinned for a while, knowing that it was a start of a fresh, brand new day. I looked beside me; the noisy alarm clock was turned off, screaming for someone who was already awake. I frowned, knowing that I was not going to be the only one roused from sleep by now. Sighing, I turned off the alarm and tried to get some shuteye again. I did not intend to start the day just yet and going back to the welcoming futon seemed too inviting for me. I flopped down the comfy mattress, resting my head onto the pillow lazily. The world around me started to close up, darkness slowly taking me. Till suddenly, the alarm beeped twice. Irritation got the better of me, for that instant I had truly forgotten that I set the alarm clock to be a multi-tasked, with extra alert for which day I awoke to. I had a bad habit of disregarding things. Then, a jolt of realization hit me, as the signal from the alarm stated that it was...

Monday.

Instantly, I jumped up, eyes wide like saucers. I literally hopped out of bed and dashed towards the bathroom, tripping over the dirty cloth on the floor that I had forgotten to wash yesterday. Pain was a good reminder then, as I scolded myself inwardly. How much time have I wasted on daydreaming, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on my face? Have not learnt from my childish pleasure? Time wasted, is gone forever! I picked myself up hastily, and continue to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face in seconds, speed I did not know I was capable of. I opened my eyes and looked at my reflection on mirror. It did not occur to me that I was hideous, skin so pale and eyes so lifeless. I shrugged off the thought, my image was not important. Such a simple task like washing up could distract me. I was ashamed. I grabbed a towel and hurriedly undress myself, stepping into the shower. I turned up the heater, and soon, hot water ran down my hair and body, soaking me thoroughly. I scrubbed myself with soap and cleanse every inch of my body. Unexpectedly, I felt dirty and small, seeing the cuts and wounds on my body that refused to be washed away. A sudden thought flashed in my mind. I was not ready for school. I did not have the courage to face the people in there with these marks on my body. I had enough of pretending, lying to my teachers, my schoolmates and myself; that such sort was never to befall on me, but in actual fact, it did. I was torment by my stepfather's abuse.

I sat solemnly on the wet tiling, legs against my chest as I started sobbing again. Nothing could have helped me. I was running away, skipping classes or hiding at home. I had been avoiding the truth for the longest time. I wasn't like this. Though I knew that part of my memory was temporary erased, something in my heart still tells me I'm not like this. What had become of me? Why am I so helpless now?

Because there is no one I can trust. Leaving home was easier said than done. My tortuous father wouldn't let it go if he found me missing. I had a bad experience once, and it told me that I should not attempt, or even think about it again. Escaping, that's all I could do. Though it may seem crazy or stupid, but I really had not the heart to report my foster father. After all, he was the one who accepted me, gave me food, shelter, education... and scars. But that was for exchange of his kindness. I should know this from the start; everything has a price to pay. I still thanked him for that. Scolding meant concern, beating meant love. I hope the saying was only true, and the past years that Father did was out of love and concern for me. Seriously, I could not bring myself to hate him or blame him for his actions; something tells me inside that I should not either.

"Fortune favors the brave," I sighed, hoping I was strong and brave enough to receive such fortune.

I turned off the shower, took the towel, and dry myself. I wore my uniform smartly, my hair still wet from my bath. My bag was slung across my right shoulder, several other books in my arms. I inhaled thickly, and then stepped out of the room, ready for anything that would be come my way. Hopefully, able to overcome whatever obstacles I would soon to face.

• • •

"Ohayo," I greeted as I entered the kitchen, trying not to sound gloomy.

I did not want to reminisce yesterday's event and wishing that Father would not too. He eyed me carefully. His eyes were scanning from my hair to that state of my uniform and finally to my shoes. I froze, for I fear he would beat me again. He was never a morning person. There was an awkward silence and I shifted my position uncomfortably. I was going to be late for school if I did not leave sooner.

"How's the injury?" He murmured, turning back to the newspaper he was reading. His voice was so soft I could hardly hear, but I managed to make out the words he was trying to put across. I was overjoyed.

"I'm fine, Otou-san," I replied, trying to keep my happiness. Good thing does not last.

After a pause, he made a slight gesture, admitting my leave. I bid him goodbye but received no response. He did not even lift his head to see me, but I was contented. I left the house, for once, feeling really blessed. Perhaps, love was not the thing I needed at the moment. It was peace.

I smiled.

• • •

Suicide Bomber: I have no idea how immature my contents were in this fiction. While I was editing it, I was like; OMG. I was so ashamed of my bad writing skills. I wondered why I still had reviews. But thanks a lot! For all the feedbacks that I had received! I hope these longer chapters cleared up some misinterpretation. The third chapter is soon to be edited, and I hope I can get as fast as possible for the forth. I'm having a sudden adoration for writing. I don't know why.